Funny the Way it Is...

Kelsey called me yesterday. I was glad to hear from her. As she and Kris get more and more secure in their adult lives, the phone calls get more and more spread out, I've noticed. Not that that's a bad thing. Just different. Elesha makes up for it, though.

She was excited, talking about a new assignment for one of her classes. It's for Interpretive Reading and the assignment (as I understand it) involves her compiling a variety of information into an essay-type format and then reading/acting it out for her class.

Kelsey chose to write about Addiction for this one.

Yippee.

I never kept any major secrets from Kelsey and Kris as they grew up - not that I sat them down and brought them up to speed with all the fun-filled antics of my past. But, I always felt it was important to be honest with them about mistakes I've made, which would hopefully impress on them the incredible damage we humans can inflict upon ourselves and others as we go through life. You know, "make good choices!"

By that I mean I filled them in on my teen-aged and early adult years. They know about my excessive drug use and "partying". They know about their father's heroin and cocaine addiction. They know some of what that mess looked like in my relationship with him, and in their early lives, too. And they know how God kept yanking me back from the precipice. I was determined to die - slowly and by any means - He evidently had other plans and ultimately revealed Himself to me.

He saved me.

So, here is my Kelsey away at a Christian University. Interwoven with her academic classes for her Communications/Drama major are classes in Bible and Chapel.

And I get these calls. And we talk.

She's researching the Addiction presentation, and reading Tweaked by Nic Shef. It's his memoir on his descent into Meth addiction. As he put it, "growing up on methamphetamines". Along the way, he tried every other drug he could get his hands on, and talks about how de-humanizing that life is.

"Is that what it was like, Mom?"

"Yep."

"Oh, momma..."

"I know, honey. It was beyond hellish."

"But, look where you are now."

"Oh, I know that, too. Trust me."

But do I? Do I really remember where I am now? Maybe this many years out (it's been almost as long as Kesley's been alive), I get absent-minded about where I was and where I was most definitely headed. Much of who I am today, many of the reasons I care so deeply about my family, my children, is fiercely entangled in who I was when I finally turned to God.

Beyond saving.

I thought so. I was determined to get rid of my pain one way or another. I was racing toward that cliff edge.

He got in the way.

Twenty years out, the intensity of that has faded. I forget from whence I've come. I forget how messed up, how far gone I was.

Meanwhile, I have this daughter discovering God. I'm watching her draw near to Him, listening to her talk about Him - telling me about things I used to know so clearly. Her deepening relationship with God reminds me how much I'm missing, invites me back to the warmth of His fire, offers me a blanket and a place to rest.

Now, will I take that blanket? Am I finally ready to rest?

There's the rub. I don't know if I am. I can see the fire and am drawn to it's heat - I am freezing out here. But something keeps me back. Some stubborn part of me resists the comfort I know I'll find. I'm sitting on a log by myself. Just sitting. In the cold.

What am I waiting for? No clue. Therapist Lisa would tell me to stop wondering what I'm waiting for and just get my butt over to the fire...hummmm I'll have to think about that.

Me Who Used to Be Queen

I haven't exactly made it a secret that parenting - always a rough road - has taken an unexpected detour OFF road lately.  My three kids still at home (aka the "little" kids) seem to have made maps of their own including some major potholes, dips, and a bunch of dirt roads.  And I don't have a four-wheel drive anymore.

I think Kam's has a street or two that have "DANGER ROAD CLOSED AHEAD" on his map.  And he's all into the adventure of finding out what happens when you make mommie drive down them at high speeds.
See, since the "big" kids have all moved out, I have no more buffer between myself and the remaining children of the corn sleeping under my roof.  No one is on my side (I'm not allowed to have one anymore).  My older kids were pretty darned respectful.  I only had to say "no" a few times for them to get it.  They didn't ask, "whhhhyyyy?????"  every time I asked them to do something, or just flat out ignore any words coming out of my mouth.  Even when spoken directly into his or her ear. 
Seriously, they were pretty decent kids.

As they grew up, they helped the smaller fry stay on track.  When Klaryssia, Kobi, or Kameron would question me incessently (and I'm talking twenty-plus times), a larger kid like Kesley, Elesha, Kris or Kami, would set them straight.  You don't talk to Mom like that.  There are consequences, come on, let's go play basketball in your room. .

No more.

My royal guard has abandoned me.  I am on my own.  Why is this just sinking in, you ask?  After all, the last big kid left in August. Yeah, well I'm a bit of a slow study.  At some level, I think I figured ALL my children - since they were raised in the same house, with the same rules - would catch on, fall under my spell, and magically behave like reasonable people.  Eventually.

Wrong
Wrong.
Wrong.

I've been thrown back into parenting 101.  Maybe I'm not even in a 100 level course yet.  Maybe this is a 60 or an 80. Or maybe this is a graduate level deal.  Maybe this is God's Phd. course in parenting. . .taking me to the upper-echelon of moms. . .

Nah.  This is either remedial parenting or purgatory.  Maybe the Catholics are right, after all.

Even as I type this, at o-dark-thirty in the a.m., Klaryssia has come out at least four times to tell me the weather report for the day (I don't care), show me what she's wearing (ditto), to tell me she's brushed her teeth (check), and to explain to me her schedule for the day (again); Kameron (up since 5:20 am) is explaining to everyone that he does NOT have a doctor's appointment (he does), telling Klaryssia that she needs to take her meds (she already did), and I can hear him taking off the floor vent in the bathroom, probably shoving his clothes for the day down it; Kobi is trying to convince him that he does have an appointment, (pointless, Kobi, you are wasting your words, trust me), asking me how to turn regular instant oatmeal into brown sugar oatmeal, and dragging his wet bedding out to the washer (while asking why "we" haven't washed his wet sheets from yesterday - "we" were working all day, master and haven't had a chance to get to your damp bedding); and the noise is escalating.

These skirmishes occur constantly.  If they are up, they are fighting about something.  Anything.  Everything.  Last night it got so bad I wanted to leave the house.  


Not an option, though.  Failing that, I grabbed a glass of wine and my Ipod, found the loudest playlist I could find, and sang my way through dinner prep.  All through it, they kept popping into the kitchen (guess that's because with the blessed music playing, I couldn't hear them yelling, "MOM").  It was awesome, because their little mouths were opening and closing and I couldn't hear a word.  

Santana Danced me Through the Night, Grits had me Runnin', and Kenny Chesney reminded me about the sweet Summertime. . .

I know I keep harping on this, but seriously I've been blindsided.  I foolishly thought I had a handle on parenting.  After all, I ran a home daycare; I raised my own two kids; I fostered countless others - at one point our big house in Colorado had four adults, fifteen children, and almost that many pets.  We survived snow storms, power outages (when Kam was on a ventilator), dying chickens, a horse that peed on the front lawn, multiple bus and school schedules, and still found a way to have Kelsey in competitive gymnastics, Kris in basketball and football, and everyone else at their myriad doctors and therapy appointments.

Now here I am, crushed and bewildered by these three.
It doesn't seem right.  Somewhere in my brain there must be skills I can use against these heathens.  And when I figure out what they are, and my heathens become children again, I will be expecting my Peace Prize.

Or at the very least, a little peace.  Which is probably better.
I could use the million bucks, though.

The Daily Grind

This parenting gig is hard. I mean, I had a suspicion during the first twenty odd years. But, with this second group of kids (ages 17, almost 10, and 9), I am certain.

'Course, there are a few differences with this second group. The most glaring being that I am now twenty years older. Initially, I thought that should give me an edge. You know, I know the little ways kids try to manipulate you, have all the pat parenting answers down -

But these three defy my mom logic.
 
They aren't logical at all.

When you take three "damaged" kids, with a variety of issues and stir them all up in one household what comes out is a complete crapshoot. And by crap I mean the other word. Take Kameron at this very moment.

We have an ongoing power struggle between Kameron and Kobi over who opens the gate on our way out to the bus stop. They were alternating days, but believe it or not, that got too difficult to keep track of. So, in my infinite *cough cough* wisdom, I came up with alternating weeks. Mon/Wed/Friday one week, and Tues/Thursday the next.

This seemed to work for awhile. Kam just required one or two reminders, "What days do you have this week, Kam?"

"Oh. . . (insert correct days here)".

But lately he's been slipping. This morning, he argued for a good ten minutes that Kobi had Monday/Wednesday/Friday last week (which he didn't), and that Kameron himself was Monday/Wednesday/Friday this week (again). Evidently, he's wised up to the fact that Tuesday/Thursday is not the greater deal.

It went like this:

"Mom, can I open the gate?"

"No, Kam, Kobi is Monday/Wednesday/Friday this week."
"EHHHHEEAAAA!! Kobi is NOT Monday/Wednesday/Friday, I AM!"

"What days were you last week, Kam?"
EHHHHHEEEAAAAAA!!!"
"What days, Kam?"

"I was NOT Monday Wednesday/Friday!!!"
"Kam..."
"It's MY day to OPEN THE GATE!"
"Kam, what days are you this week?"
"IT's MY DAY! I am NOT Tuesday/Thursday!"

And so on, for about ten minutes. While I'm trying to get him on and off the toilet (I know, TMI) and get his AFOs on and get his teeth brushed and get him in his wheelchair. He also has this endearing habit of stiffening his entire 75 pound body when he's yelling. This makes all of the above ever so much easier.

I finally wised up and said, "Hey Kobi, you get to open the gate all week! Kam doesn't want his Tuesday/Thursday!"
"I do TOOOOO!"
"Oh, so you want to open the gate Tuesday/Thursday?"
"Yes".
 
Peace is momentarily restored.

This lasted until it was time to turn off Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and head out the door to the bus stop.

"EHHHHEEAAAAAAA! Do NOT turn off Mickey Mouse Clubhouse!!!"
"Okay, I'll just let Teacher Parnell know you aren't coming to school today, then. I'm walking Kobi to the bus stop, see you later, Kam."
"NO!"
"Oh, you're coming, then?"

And once again, peace is restored. Just like flipping a light switch, he's happy and deceptively compliant.

This crazytown adventure in parenting goes on every day in some fashion or another. Kameron and Klaryssia can pick the most seemingly unimportant, random thing and escalate it into a UN-sized crisis. My "normal" bag of parenting tricks applies not at all. And when the two of them feed off each other and Kobi thinks it would be fun to stir them up . . . I'm thinking 7:00 am is not too early for a glass of white wine.

I guess the biggest thing is that while engaging in power struggles with them obviously won't work, often neither does trying to twist their logic around. These kids have stubborn down to an art form - it's why they've survived so long against all the odds - and when they bring it to bear on me. . .argh.

Once again, the inmates are running the asylum. I think I need a vacation. Is it too late to turn these kids in for some nice grandchildren?

BTW I am having trouble with the new Blogger Editor - it's not formatting the text like it should,  I do apologize for the odd layout!

One of the comments I get a lot when people find out that I'm a single mom to high needs kids is, "I don't know how you do it". It's right up there with people saying how special I am and what a big heart, etc. etc.

Not to denigrate those of you who have actually said these things (I do appreciate compliments!), but believe me, I'm human. I'm NO saint.

I have days, like this very day, where I want to pull my hair out. When Kameron - for the fifty millionth time - bothers the dog (enough that the dog is about to bite the hell out of him), and is cackling with laughter over the increasing growls, and I am not near him (perhaps on the toilet, perhaps in the laundry room), and I am saying (over and over, louder and louder), "Kameron, leave Ricky alone. Kameron, leave Ricky alone. KAMERON, leave Ricky ALONE. KAMERONLEAVERICKYALONE".

And am ignored. Until I come storming out of where ever I was, get all up in his face which scares him more than Ricky's growling and snapping, and he says, "okay, mom."

And then we start it all over again in about five or ten minutes. However long it takes me to get started on some other chore in some other area of the house and for Ricky to leave my side and meander back to Kameron.

Kam thinks it's hilarious.

We do "time out", we do "three strikes", we do IAMABOUTTOKILLYOU, nothing ever, ever, ever works. And if I ignore the resulting clamor, I've found it increases. Kobi will start jumping on furniture, Klaryssia will start telling Kameron to leave Ricky alone (she, the Queen of animal pestering), and will tell Kobi to stop jumping on furniture (while she laughs along). . .

The very persistence and stubbornness that makes these "special" kids survive in spite of all odds, is the very persistence and stubbornness that makes them HUGE pains in my hiney (and by hiney, I'm assuming you know what I really mean).

So, next time you think I'm up for sainthood - think again. I lose my cool regularly.

That's the hardest part of being a single mom. No breaks. In fact, any of you who know of single moms (sorry, dads, can't speak for you, never been a dad), you would be doing her an IMMENSE favor if you would take their kids for a few hours every once and awhile. Throw them in the car with you and your kids for a run to DQ or the dollar menu @ Micky D's. Or just drop over and have coffee with her. Bring her a latte; boss her kids around for her. Help her get some of the stress out.

She will probably kiss your feet.

I know I would.

Love, peeps. Thanks for listening!

What I Did on My Summer "Vacation"

Well people, the long summer has ended and the children are scampering back to school. Maybe not scampering, but they are getting on the bus and going. One way or the other.

And now:

LET THE WILD RUMPUS START!!!!!!!

But, really. . . its time to buckle down and get all those waiting projects going, and um, start that ahh . . .

NOPE: What's that time? What is the time? Tick-tick-tock, it's party o'clock!...

What DID we do on our summer vacation? 'Cause, really, that's the question here. People with children don't have summer vacation, per se. They have children. They have activity plans. They have camps and trips to movies, and maybe summer school - if they're lucky. They have lots of mental exercise trying to keep their kiddos occupado, out of trouble, and out of their hair.

We also spend a lot of time on the train to Crazytown.

If you have teens, you probably have even more stress. What is little Susie doing at the mall? Is she really at the mall? Is she texting while driving that car you bought her? Worse. . . is she "sexting"? And what the heck is that, anyway? Do they still have Raves??

It boggles the mind and feeds the worry machine.

For those of us "lucky" enough to stay at home with our little dears, there are other concerns: Will I survive the next three months? Will the children? Do I care if the children survive? It would certainly cut down on the back-to-school expenses. . .

But really, for our little krew, this was a pretty decent summer. We had Miss Kelsey home from college for most of it, and you all know I loved that. It will probably be her last one home. She's planning on getting an apartment with one of her roomies next summer. Thankfully, she will be pretty close by, but still. . .ah, but that's next year. Why borrow stress that's almost a whole twelve months away? I have plenty of worry for today.

Besides, I think I might (key word: might)be adjusting to this having adult children thing. As most of you know, my baby boy got married (see multiple posts on this one), and, although I cried copious amounts, I did not perish. And, I am actually very happy for them both. Really. REALLY.

Kelsey went on a road trip from Washington to California with some of her roommates, and I didn't freak out when she neglected to call me - well, I think she checked in twice - I survived it. 'Course, she got a speeding ticket, and she wouldn't have if she'd listened to my voice echoing in her brain to slow down and drive safely. But, they all made it home intact. And a good time was had by all.

I made a decision (again) to downsize and clean up and get organized. Am I alone in this? We Americans are insane consumers. We pay for places to keep our junk. We treasure it, as if we'll miss out on some essential part of life if we toss those pans we bought at Wal-Mart fifteen years ago. George Carlin did a bit on this phenomenon (disclaimer: it's a little raw, after all, it is George Carlin).

In light of this decision, I asked two of Kris's BFFs and groomsmen to come out and assist. Wes and Dustin had some free time and came out for a few weeks. It was terrific fun and they helped me get some big ticket stuff done - moving furniture out, rearranging rooms and appliances, some minor repairs, AND they mowed the lawn for me - WOOT!!

In exchange, I gave them some tours of Seattle at her finest, a few beers, introduced them to some of our AWESOME food, and they got to run down to Oregon and visit with the Newlyweds for a few days.

Oh, by the way, they are terrific cooks and made many meals for the kids and me - another big WOOT! I could totally get used to having someone cook for me. Foot rubs would be nice, too.

We had Elesha visit several times, a few friends drop by, Kobi had two weeks at Drama Camp (go figure), Kameron got to ride a really cool adapted bike at therapy, we all managed to tolerate Klaryssia's non-stop talk about being a senior this year at high school . . . did too much DQ, baked in the unusually hot Seattle summer, BBQ'd a couple of times, and generally had some good times.

And then, the capstone of summer: the first day of school!

The kids survived, despite their valiant efforts to make me hurt them with their tactics of arguing, fighting, whining, grumping, and general loudness.

And so did I.

Now: LET THE WILD RUMPUS START!!

Oh, one more thing I did on my Summer Vacation: I re-discovered Craigslist. The world's biggest garage sale. Now, I can sell my stuff. And buy more stuff.

Uh oh.